One
of my friends who also has a food blog told me that she likes the posts
where I cobble together ingredients in Paris to make something
American. After spending countless hours roaming the city in search of
this and that, it’s something that is actually fun for me to do, too. I
like nothing better than prowling around and discovering ethnic épiceries
(often around Belleville and the Marché d’Aligre), where I always come
home with a variety of curiosities, in addition to what I was
originally looking for. Some are still in the back of my cabinets, like
still-sealed coconut concentrate from Vietnam (which looks similar to
molasses, and probably tastes amazing), and the bag of Fritos, which an
American friend who was staying in my apartment spied, and threatened
to open – and eat. But didn’t
Four
years later – yup, the coconut concentrate is still in my baking
cabinet, and the Fritos are still uneaten, along with a bag mahlab, the
fragrant kernels of Mediterranean cherry pits, a dried-out stalk of
candied angelica, which I had to buy since I searched far and wide for
fresh angelica in France (even in the region where candied angelica is
made) and no one knew where – or what – fresh angelica was (thus ending
my ability to spin a story, and a recipe, out of that one). I have a
tin sack of سبع بهارات, a Lebanese
blend of seven spices that has no occidental equivalent that I can
think of. There is a small box of handmade chocolate from Oaxaca that
has been calling my name ever since the start of hot chocolate season.
And just added to my roster are six juicy, plump Meyer lemons that were
hand-delivered, and are begging to be made into something that exploits
their unique, sweet-citrusy character.
While
I love to play around with these things in baking, it’s hard to share
any recipes because not everything is available everywhere. And while
the internet fills a lot of gaps in global availability, there are no
substitutes for a number of things. Fortunately cornmeal is something
that is readily available not just in America, but is used in the
cuisines of India, Sri Lanka, and Italy, as well as Central and South
America. And a few months back, I was happy to find a bag of cornmeal
in a shop VT Cash &
Carry, up in the lively Indian quartier of Paris.
The
French have a different relationship to corn than Americans. It’s
native to us so we use it often, in a variety of guises – mostly fresh,
but also dried and ground. But other cultures have cornmeal-based
specialties. Lest you think the French don’t ever use cornmeal, think
again, mes amis.
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